


Paladin

by Decepticonsensual



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 19:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3180803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decepticonsensual/pseuds/Decepticonsensual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Prowl makes a decision about his vocation... and twists the knife in his partner.  Tumbler knew they were heading for a crash, but he never expected this.  Angsty little one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paladin

**Author's Note:**

> Hat tip to Tumblr user Jetandsilver, who suggested that maybe the reason Prowl and Chromedome broke up was that the Senate guards had strict rules about non-fraternisation. I took that idea and ran in a somewhat different direction with it.

Tumbler should have known something was wrong when Prowl messaged him, but he had trouble reading Prowl’s moods these days.  Actually, that wasn’t entirely true.  It was that he resented having to try.  Since the night of the Matrix heist, Tumbler had come to resent many things - the itchy silences; the squabbles over nothing (he started most of them, he knew, but getting  _some kind_ of reaction out of Prowl was at least better than the silence); the awful, earnest attempts to talk and work and frag as they had before.  Apart from an angry ‘face up against a wall the day before, he didn’t think they’d actually touched each other in weeks.  Tumbler was in no mood to try and decipher the infuriatingly obscure algorithm of what was going on in Prowl’s head.

Which was how he came to be sitting in Maccadam’s, at Prowl’s invitation, holding the two objects Prowl had handed him when he arrived:  a cube of engex and a datapad, displaying a decrypted message from the office of the Prime himself.

Tumbler tried to speak once, twice.  Stopped himself each time.  Prowl would always tease him for pointing out the obvious when they were working a case together (in that deadpan way of his, only the slight tilt of his head and a certain timbre of his voice giving away that he was being playful, and how,  _how_ had Tumbler once known him so well?).  So he bit down on his glossa to keep from reciting things they both knew.  That the message promised Prowl a position managing Sentinel’s personal guard.  That it would be a life-changing promotion.  That members of the Senatorial Guard were not permitted outside relationships.

And that that was Prowl’s signature already at the bottom of the enlistment form.

Finally, Tumbler simply asked, “What do you want me to say?”

Prowl blew out a noisy ventilation.  ”I assumed you would be happy for me.  We both know this isn’t working out -“

"And whose fault is that?" Tumbler snapped, hating himself for it.

Prowl’s optics narrowed, and he looked for a second as though he might snipe right back… but then he broke off his gaze and glanced down at his folded hands.  ”Does it matter?”

Tumbler didn’t like any of the answers he came up with to that question, so he said instead, “You do realise that this is forever, right?  You’re signing up to be celibate for your  _entire life._ Long after this - this temper tantrum of  yours -“

"It is  _not_ a -“

" - is over, you’re going to be  _alone,_ " Tumbler finished, raising his voice to shout over Prowl.  A couple of heads turned in their direction, but Tumbler ignored them, glaring into those icy optics.

"I’m touched by your concern," Prowl drawled.  "But I’ve found solitude suits me.  I’ve had a surprising degree of experience with it over the past few months, in fact."

"Fine.   _Fine._ I’ve been a terrible conjunx -  _not that I’ve been the only one_  - but fine.  Hate me, break up with me.  But don’t do this to yourself.”

"This is what I want," Prowl whispered fiercely.  "All of it."

Tumbler pushed back from the table hard enough to rock it, and stood.  ”Have it your way.  Married to the Senatorial Guard; that suits you.  You always did treat the job like it was your  _conjunx_ , and I was your shameful bit on the side.”

It was many years before they met again, after the war began.  And when they did, Prowl didn’t mention Chromedome’s - it was Chromedome, now - Chromedome’s new partner, and Chromedome didn’t mention the weld scars on Prowl’s shoulder, where his Senatorial Guard brand had been scoured away.


End file.
